Rusty Talbott - Photo courtesy of Stephen Talbott
Editor’s Note: We recently offered readers an opportunity to pay tribute to beloved pets who have passed away. We received dozens of heartfelt tributes. They will be published on cleveland.com on weekdays from May 16-June 10. Please note that the deadline to submit new free tributes has passed. Readers can place a pet memory ad for their furry friends by calling 216-999-5555 or by going to ezads.cleveland.com.
Rusty was a rescue mutt from the dog pound in Fairfax County, Va. She had sharp features like a terrier. Her reddish-brown fur was smooth and shiny on the sides but stood straight up all the way down her back. Because of that bristly back fur, the guy at the pound asked us if she was Rhodesian Ridgeback. A what? We had no clue. This was 1958, and it wasn’t until 40 years later that I actually saw a Rhodesian Ridgeback. Definitely not Rusty.
Rusty was a survivor who didn’t mind living with us. She accepted our food, our affection. But she had a restless spirit. Whenever she could, she would run away. She was skilled at banging the screen door open with both her front paws and taking off. All the kids in the neighborhood knew her. She even took off during a snowstorm on Jan. 19, 1961. I remember the date because it was the day before John Kennedy’s inauguration.
My dad was in the Army, and we lived on an Army post in Arlington, Va., just outside Washington, D.C. The storm’s nine inches in Washington would be like two feet in Cleveland. And it was a particularly big deal because of the need to clear the streets for the parade the next day. Cars were banned, and plows ran all night. I spent the bitterly cold Inauguration Day at the parade as a Boy Scout “usher” at a viewing stand along Pennsylvania Avenue. It was one of the coldest days of my life. But when I got home, no Rusty.
My mother ran an ad in the local weekly, and a retired couple called and said they had found a dog like Rusty. However, they said, she had run away. To get where they lived, she would have had to go out the front gate of the heavily fenced Army post and cross a busy four-lane highway. There was a stoplight by the front gate to help her cross, but Rusty was apparently way more street-savvy than we knew.
On the tenth day, Rusty suddenly showed up on the parade ground in the middle of the post not much worse for the wear, although her fur had grown longer. The weird thing was that Rusty almost never came back.
Rusty was particularly adept at slipping out of her collar. Once, my grandmother from Indianapolis was visiting and took her for a walk. Rusty pulled the slip-collar trick. My pet-loving grandmother was devastated. A devout Christian Scientist, she locked herself up in my sister’s room to pray and called a Christian Science “practitioner” who helped her pray for Rusty’s return. That night we were all gathered in the hallway by the front door, and I thought I heard a sound. I opened the door, and there was Rusty.
My grandmother lifted both arms toward the ceiling and said in a strong voice, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”
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